Dismissed
by GratefulInsomniac
Summary: After someone is fired from PPTH, House, Cuddy and Wilson work together to correct the situation. A Season 1 short story.
1. The Changing of the Guard

_A/N-This is my Season 1 fic. I really wanted to write one story for each season and this is the last one that I have to do in order to fulfill that goal. It will be a short story, I think around 4 chapters, but it depends on which point I decide to stop at, so maybe a few more. Thanks to everyone who has read, I hope you enjoy this one._

_**I don't own the characters of House, MD. This fic contains adult language and situations.** _

_Takes place late in Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's re-appearance.  
_

* * *

**-The Changing of the Guard-**

House trudged through his kitchen, dumping coffee into a cup before he tossed the morning's second Vicodin into his mouth. When he heard a particularly bossy knock on the door, he winced and weighed his options, deciding to stand still and remain quiet rather than answer. Cuddy could handle the situation herself. But she didn't quit. Limping as noiselessly as possible, avoiding the known creaky boards, he went into the living room as the persistent knocking came to a sudden stop. He nodded as he acknowledged his victory, satisfied that he had won the round until he heard the clicking of a key sliding into place and turning. Watching with a combination of irritation and dread, he saw the knob turn and the door swing open. Cuddy was on the other side, marching into the apartment, pausing briefly to admonish, "Seriously? Your spare key is _hidden_ above your door?"

She handed him the key, looking with the utmost disgust at his pajamas and walking back to his room.

"I thought it was safe," he shouted down the hall, "since it seemed way too high for you to reach."

He could hear her rummaging pause, and he could almost feel her scowl through the wall. "You think this is a joke?" she answered, her voice becoming clearer as he neared his room.

"Like your hide-a-key isn't practically _begging_ to be found."

"I'm not talking about the key I'm talking about…," she looked out from the closet for a second, confused, "How do you even know where I live? You know what? It doesn't matter because you're only trying to distract me."

Once he was in his room, he surveyed the scene, accusing openly, "You're in my bedroom, digging through my closet… Is this your version of making a pass?"

"I want you to get dressed. Now. We have a half-hour to get down there. I should have known," she griped as shoved the clothes she had selected against him and disappeared down the hall, "that you couldn't be professional enough to show up for this. This could mean your job, hell, it could mean my job. Not that I'd ever imagine you would care about anyone's job but your own."

"That's not true, I don't really even care about mine."

"The lawyer said it's no big deal. We show up, give a statement, mostly _I'll_ give a statement, so hopefully you have to say as little as possible. Just try not to get us both fired. Please, be professional and courteous…act like you're a brilliant doctor and not some disgruntled flunkie."

"Fine. I'll meet you there."

"Oh, no way. I'm here now. I'm driving you. I put my career, my reputation, at risk every single time you take a case. I'm not going to further tempt fate by hoping you'll show up when I need you."

He emerged from his room, wearing clothes that were not the clothes she had handed to him, but he was in a dress shirt and black jeans, so she was satisfied by his attempt at proper attire for the situation. She walked back to his room again, like this wasn't one of the only times she had ever set foot in his building, and came back with a tie. Approaching him without even a second's hesitation, she flung it around his neck and effortlessly tied it. "You look good," she admitted, looking more at her handy work than him. "Almost like a specialist…or at least a grownup."

"Your symptoms are worsening. This is a whole new level of micromanaging."

"It's not micromanaging. You left me no choice. This isn't a joke. This lawsuit could ruin your career. These people aren't messing around. You cross a certain point…and there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do to save your ass. I tolerate a _lot_ of bullshit, but there are lines even you cannot cross."

"You really expect me to do this?"

"You made this bed…so get cozy."

House sulked in the car, dressed nicely, looking like a teenager being dragged to a wedding he couldn't stand to attend. Once they arrived, they sat in an overly air-conditioned waiting room, filled with leather upholstered furniture and décor that was supposed to communicate the success and experience of the lawyers it served. Cuddy sat perfectly still, nervous but composed, until House tapped his cane one too many times on the coffee table. Her hand reached out, pressing down on the cane to hold it still.

"Relax," House grumbled, "it's all a formality anyway. She lived. A patient who's alive and healthy, swooped from death's door by yours truly, does not have a lawsuit in the making."

"They're suing because they claim your methods were reckless…that the initial failed attempts to treat caused her unnecessary pain and emotional anguish."

"And you already told them that the alternative to 'emotional anguish' was death?"

When a man emerged from one of the offices, Cuddy stood immediately, extending a hand and introducing herself. "Dr. Cuddy," the man answered so politely that it seemed condescending, "we've reached a settlement in this case. Your board just informed us that they've accepted our terms."

"You're mistaken. The board is meeting tonight."

"No, ma'am, they just met. They've accepted our terms. Thank you for coming, I'm sorry that your presence here was unnecessary."

"I think there has been some confusion. I'm Lisa Cuddy, this is Gregory House. We're from Princeton-Plainsboro."

"I know who you are. I can't release any additional information, so may I suggest that you contact some of your board members for answers to any of your questions."

Cuddy's jaw tightened as a wave of nerves consumed her mind while she began to put together pieces of the puzzle. As much as she hoped it was all some misunderstanding, something she'd later laugh about, her instincts told her that the situation was something far more troublesome. "Thank you," she told the lawyer abruptly, walking swiftly to the door and pausing long enough to wordlessly demand that House follow her.

They didn't say a word in the car as they drove back. House was irritated enough that he was removed from his apartment to attend a meeting that didn't even happen, but given the way Cuddy's hands grasped the steering wheel, he thought it might be best to point out his displeasure to her at a later time.

Once at the hospital, the writing was on the wall when she saw a blue-uniformed employee removing her name from the door and one of the most prominent board members awaiting her arrival. "Dr. Cuddy…Lisa," the board member said carefully, as she directed Cuddy and House into the office, "I'm sorry. This lawsuit, right on the heels of losing Mr. Vogler and his financial support, it was the last straw. Your decisions put this hospital at far too much risk. I'm afraid we need to let you go."

"I was voted out without being given the option to resign…at a board meeting that was held without my knowledge?" Cuddy asked. "This is beyond unconventional, in fact, it's completely inappropriate and probably a breach of contract."

"The hospital was at too great a risk to-"

"The hospital isn't at risk from _Cuddy_," House interrupted snidely, "she hovers protectively over this building like nothing else matters."

"Her decisions have cost this hospital millions. Her allegiances are misplaced and poorly prioritized."

"But she's not a _risk._ I'm the risk."

"Many of us feel that she hovers protectively over you first, Dr. House," the board member answered, "and the hospital itself is a secondary concern."

"You're obviously misinterpreting her chronic nagging as protective hovering. I can see how easily those two things could be confused. Ask anyone, nothing matters to Cuddy but this hospital. It's her child."

"Dr. House, this matter is closed. You'll be meeting with your new supervisor in a few minutes to discuss the terms of your continued employment. Things at this hospital are going to change."

"_My _continued employment? You're firing Cuddy but you aren't firing me?" House asked, shaking his head with confusion. "Who came up with this genius plan?"

"House," Cuddy pulled his sleeve and turned him to face her.

"Check your contract, you'll be fine."

Cuddy patted his arm, "It's been good to meet you again, even if the initial circumstances were less than ideal. I know you and I have had some…well, I know you don't like the way I've done most of what I do and some days you drove me completely insane…but I have a lot of respect for your abilities and we've accomplished some pretty impressive things together. Believe it or not, there were a few times when working with you was actually almost…well…it wasn't horrible. If this is it, I wish you the best."

He stared at her, looking down at the spot where her hand rested on his arm before regarding her with puzzlement. Then the moment was over, the contact withdrawn, and she asked the board member about collecting her belongings. House considered the scene, assuming that she must have had a plan because she was far too calm, accepting the change with too much resignation. After she was told how she could get her things, and the board member stepped out into the hallway, House moved in front of Cuddy. "The job...for an administrator, you weren't horrible."

She smiled fleetingly, "You're welcome. Take care of yourself, House," and she walked out of the hospital.

Watching until he could no longer see her, he stood motionlessly, completely disregarding the fact that a man was standing two feet away and attempting conversation. "What?" House asked testily after a few moments.

"I'm Joseph Malloy, your new supervisor. Come this way so we can discuss some changes that we will be instituting here at the hospital. Dr. House, are you alright?"

"Absolutely," House answered decisively before he began to walk toward the elevators.

"Dr. House," Malloy called insistently, hurrying to catch up, "what are you doing? We aren't finished here."

House continued to press the 'up' button on the elevator, largely disregarding the man in a very expensive suit who tried to look authoritative. Still staring at the doors, House commented, "Normally I'd really love to sit and discuss these changes with you, drink coffee, consider these _wonderful_ improvements that you are making here at the hospital."

"Perfect, my office is-"

"But this isn't normally. I don't see a lot of point of sitting through your meeting if I'm not being paid."

"Oh," Malloy laughed, "don't worry. Your job isn't in any jeopardy as long as you can agree to our terms. So why on earth wouldn't you get paid?"

House stepped into the elevator, holding out his cane to block any followers, stating, "Because I quit," and adding at the exact moment before the doors sealed completely, "but feel free to keep paying me if you want to."

* * *

After seeing Wilson through the peephole, Cuddy opened her door. "Hey Wilson," she sang in a slightly tipsy way, trying to sound happier and more carefree than she was.

Her professional, perfectly fitted work attire had been cast aside hours earlier in favor of comfortable, loose clothing more suited for sleep than company. Wilson leaned forward to hug her when a cool glass bottle pressed into Cuddy's belly and she turned to see House's taller figure standing off to the side of the doorstep. "Drink first, hug later…or not at all," he suggested.

She looked down at the bottle he had wedged between her and Wilson. "House, what do you want?" she whined. "You're here to gloat?"

"I'm here to drink. And since you're unemployed, I'm supplying."

"We come bearing gifts," Wilson offered more diplomatically, holding up a large paper bag.

Cuddy appeared to exist in a space between touched and confused, "What's really going on?"

House was already behind her, actually standing inside her home next to her before any invitation to enter could be offered, "We're going to figure out how to get your job back. And, my presence alone should be enough to cheer you up."

"_You _are going to cheer me up?" Cuddy asked, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. "That's like using sandpaper for a massage, isn't it?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of drinking, food and plotting revenge on those responsible for your untimely ousting. I'll need a few more drinks if you want a massage."

House was limping into her living room before Wilson even got in the door. "He really wanted to come," Wilson explained, "he's worried. And he thinks he can get your job back."

Cuddy and Wilson walked into the living room where House was already making himself comfortable as he questioned suspiciously, "Tell me you didn't just give up and walk out of there without a fight."

Cuddy folded her arms, "There was no point in arguing with her. She was just the spokesperson. I needed to get out of there, figure out what I was doing and go from there. It wasn't the time for thoughtless reactions. Besides…I have two standing job offers with other hospitals and maybe it's time I consider a change."

House opened the bottle and held it out to her: a challenge. She took it from him, smirking proudly before she took a harsh swig. "I knew you still kept fun-you in there somewhere," he commented.

"Most of us had to grow up. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to party with the demands of my job."

"Then are you sure you want that job?" he asked, reaching for the bottle.

"Yes, I want it. Tomorrow I'll start to plan, but tonight I'm going to have a few drinks, relax and enjoy the fact that I can be completely irresponsible and you guys have to worry about getting up in the morning."

Wilson sighed, "I'm the only one who has to get up."

"House," Cuddy warned, "don't be late and don't mess with these people. They'll fire you faster than-"

"They can't fire him," Wilson interrupted, "because he quit."

She gawked as she attempted to think of the proper response to the revelation, "Why?"

"I can't work for that guy. You've spoiled me. Right now, when you're nagging me with your annoying, piercing voice…I'm staring at your heaving chest. It takes the edge off. His heaving chest does nothing for me."

"Is every near-compliment coated with an insult and-or blatant degradation?"

"That wasn't degradation. I wasn't asking you to do something different or additional that somehow degraded you, I was just finding the silver lining, appreciating your natural reaction to being irritated by me, which is further evidence that I am the embodiment of optimism."

"I'm trying to remember why I kept saving your ass."

"Simple. You'd be bored without me. I'm interesting, I challenge you, and I'm helping you to make a name for that otherwise average hospital. Plus, when it comes down to it…you like me."

She scoffed so loudly it was almost comical, "I _like_ you? Realizing what's good for my hospital and _liking _someone are totally different things."

"But in the end, you didn't even try to trade my job for yours. If you didn't like me you would have tried to bargain…offered to get rid me in order to save yourself."

"How do you know I didn't call as soon as I left to make that very offer?"

"You didn't."

"How do you know?" she challenged. He waited, pulling the answer from her through his expression alone. "Fine, I didn't! But I could have."

"Of course you _could_ have, but you didn't. And I can tell that you didn't because you are one well-placed comment away from a total nervous breakdown."

"I am not. I'm perfectly calm."

"You're definitely trying to be, you put on a good act, but you're not perfectly calm. Your jaw is so tight that you're lucky you still have teeth. Your fists are clenched, your breath is shallow."

"Well I didn't expect to get fired today…that's not the kind of news that is inherently relaxing. There is a little bit of understandable tension. So maybe I'm not having a nervous breakdown, and I'm just annoyed by you."

"Which could explain the tension but does not explain the fact that you were two drinks away from completely wasted before supper _and _before I even got here."

Her brow furrowed with hurt for a second, "I lost my hospital."

"I know."

"My career matters to me. I need to start making calls so I can get my hospital back or…look for a new hospital, a new job."

Wilson added, "I'm not staying there either. Tomorrow, I'll start looking for another job."

"You can't quit," House answered.

"You did. I don't want to work for a hospital where-"

"You're the man on the inside. No matter what she _says_, Cuddy doesn't want a different hospital, she wants _her _hospital. I want _my_ job. We need you working there and still on the board."

"If you want your job, then why'd you quit?" she asked him loudly.

"Face it, Cuddy," House replied casually, "if that place fired you, I'd never last the week. So far, you're the only boss who doesn't fire me. Now, you could easily get a job somewhere else, and, let's be honest, you'd probably hire me back. I could sit and wait until you find something else, but at Plainsboro I have my team, my office, my Wilson…it's all there already, so why change?"

"Go back in tomorrow and get your job back. Other administrators won't fire you if you follow their rules. You can keep all of those things you value, you just have to put in a little effort."

"I don't want to put in the effort to follow the rules and play nicely with others. I want to work for you."

She scowled unhappily, "Still trying to remember why I didn't fire you."

Ignoring her, he continued, "I may also acknowledge…some small, almost negligible role in your firing."

"Almost _negligible_?" she griped through gritted teeth.

"Maybe we should go," Wilson offered, "I'll see what I can find out at work tomorrow and we'll start planning tomorrow night."

"Go?" House countered, "We have booze, food, and Cuddy is half-drunk while on the verge of a complete meltdown. I don't want to miss it."

Cuddy was, at that point, so angry she could no longer hide it. "Do you have any idea what I've done for that place? The hours I've worked, the things that I've sacrificed for that hospital?"

Her composure was suddenly running very thin, and she seemed ready to plunge fully into her carefully avoided nervous breakdown when House leaned toward her and waited until her attention was entirely on him. The flippantness gone from his tone and demeanor, he stated with complete solemnity, "You will get your hospital back."

She cleared her throat, her poise returning after her moment of worry, "Of course I will. There is a reasonable explanation for this. I just need to figure out what it is."


	2. Nostalgia

_A/N-Thanks all for following, favoriting and reading a new fic. Thanks so very much to all of you who left me your thoughts: IHeartHouseCuddy, dragonball256, linda12344, jkarr, mstimekeeper, ikissedtheLaurie, lenasti16, Nama, BabalooBlue, JM, JLCH, KiwiClare, freeasabird14, Guest, LapizSilkwood, jaybe61, Tori, dmarchl21, ammeboss, Suzieqlondon, MrsBock, Boo's House, Victoria, LittleGreg, CaptainK8, Abby, grouchysnarky, HuddyGirl, Alex, LoveMyHouse , THE Nick' Amaral and Jane Q. Doe._

_I'll try to update by early next week (I'm trying to post two updates a week on this one, but I can't make any promises). Happy weekend!  
_

* * *

**-Nostalgia-**

That evening, House, Cuddy and Wilson lulled around her living room, discussing anything but the events of the day that left two of them jobless. After a few drinks, House and Wilson did what Cuddy thought was impossible: they managed to make her laugh. It was not intentional, and, truth be told, the ample ingestion of alcohol certainly played a role in her eventual response, but she definitely started to have a good time. House and Wilson simultaneously intoxicated was a very entertaining circumstance. The banter and somewhat fraternal joking was mostly light-hearted until Cuddy mentioned a detail from the story of how House and Wilson met, as told to her by Wilson.

"Woah," House interrupted, looking around like he'd discovered a juicy detail, "how exactly did we meet in Wilson's version of events?"

Cuddy answered immediately, and quite drunkenly, "He bailed you out of jail after you got pissed off at some-"

"That's not what I said, she assumed," Wilson loudly interrupted. "I said only that there was an altercation that caused an unfortunate arrest…and apparently some bonds are forged over bailing a guy out of jail. It's not my fault that she used her judgment and felt it was obvious that you were the one who was likely arrested."

"You intentionally mislead me," Cuddy accused through a giggle. "Wilson, I'm kind of impressed."

"You're _impressed_?" House scoffed.

"Kind of, yea. Never really thought of Wilson as the bad boy type."

"Wilson's bad like choir boys and two day-old puppies."

"Choir boys can be bad."

"I was arrested twice," House bragged.

Cuddy laughed, "Are you talking about a drunk and disorderly or the _protest?" _

"House protested something?" Wilson asked. "You have a social conscience?"

"Of course I do," House replied, throwing a Vicodin into his mouth and washing it down with liquor, "if the issue is important enough."

"He protested the new hamburgers they were serving at this twenty-four hour dive," Cuddy answered.

"No, you're wrong," House confirmed. "It was BLTs. They cut the amount of bacon per sandwich in half. So, on behalf of myself, and all of the other people who wanted to eat a decent sandwich, I organized a protest."

"By 'organized', he means he got one of his buddies to stand near him outside of the door."

"Again, you're misinformed," House defended.

"How so? I was a witness."

"You probably still fantasize about it. Anyway, there was a whole group of us."

"I really don't remember a group."

"There were two guys. Unfortunately, one was distracted by the women's volleyball tournament, but he was with us in spirit."

"Well, I'm swooning over your efforts…and the ten minutes you spent with security over the incident must have been a harrowing experience, but I don't think that counts as an arrest."

"But Wilson blowing his top once makes him a bad boy?"

"I'm sure he's done lots of other things. He seems innocent, but under it all…who knows what sort of guy is yearning to break free."

"If gathering canned goods for the needy is suddenly considered badass, then yes, I'm sure you're right."

"Let's leave me out of it." Wilson asked Cuddy, "I want to know what else you know. Any other med school stories?"

"Maybe," Cuddy answered after a second's hesitation.

"I mean…did you actually meet him or you just heard of him and observed his protests at a distance?"

"We met each other, spoke. We had a class together."

"That's remarkably boring," Wilson said, disappointedly.

House piped in loudly, "It was hard for her to get to know me because of the throngs of women that surrounded me at all times, and, of course, I was always busy with my social justice work."

Wilson huffed, "There were that many desperate med students?"

"Hate to disappoint you, Wilson," Cuddy answered, swirling her drink in her glass, "House didn't seem to have trouble meeting women."

"Really? So he really did have the _rep _he claims to have had?"

"Well…most of his _rep _was exactly the same as it is now, a condescending jerk who enjoyed humiliating professors and students alike. But, some women apparently like men like that because he was not completely unpopular with the female students."

"Did you know any of the _victims_ personally?" Wilson returned.

"Possibly," Cuddy answered as Wilson's cell phone rang, and he walked unsteadily into the next room to talk.

"Wilson's really wasted," House observed.

"Wilson's not the only one," she replied, poking a nearly empty bottle. After a few seconds of silence, she sat next to him on the sofa, her shoulder almost bumping into his. "You really didn't tell him, did you?"

"Tell him what?"

"You know _what_."

"Of course I told him. The surgeon who transformed you from a Lyle to a Lisa did an amazing job, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. You should advertise for him, drum up business for the man who-"

"If that story is true, I have a few questions," she returned smugly, her speech slurring ever so slightly. "Just so I have our story straight, did you and I share a night of _really_ amazing sex before or after I became a woman? My timeline is fuzzy and that could add some interesting details to your _rep_ if it happened before the transformation."

House shot a cautionary glare, "You've had way too much to drink. I know how you are, if you tell Wilson about this, you'll regret it, so we should suspend this conversation for a time when you haven't consumed enough liquor to subdue a lumberjack."

She leaned close enough that her shoulder touched his arm, whispering, "I'm not going to tell him, so don't worry."

"Hey, I'm not worried," he replied, pushing a book across her coffee table with his cane.

"You're acting worried. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what this means."

"What _what _ means?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Should I find it sweet that you didn't dish our secret? Or maybe I should be insulted…was it not worth mentioning?"

"I do not want to talk about this right now," he answered, looking toward the doorway to see if Wilson was returning.

"Tomorrow?"

"I was thinking more like never," House said as he squirmed, his eyes still focused on the door, "Right now, we have to focus on getting your job back, so I can have my job back."

"It's strange to me that I spent hours each week trying to get you to work, but now that your job is gone, you want to work so badly."

"Apparently unemployment makes the heart grow fonder. Also I need a paycheck. The paycheck I get from you is the least irritating one I've come across. But if they call me for the Vicodin taster position I applied for, you'll have to find a new diagnostician."

"Was the sex disappointing?"

He turned suddenly, his expression one of disbelief, "You were there. You tell me."

She grinned confidently when she received the confirmation she had expected all along, "Just checking."

Gazing over at her, he could see the hint of playful flirtation in her expression, and he felt a smile threatening to emerge on his own face as well. "Why do I have the feeling that you and I drinking together might be a bad idea?"

"Oh please, we're just talking. You know, you really have changed, House."

"People don't change."

"In some ways, you have." Her tone became more serious and she asked, "I am curious though. You never mentioned it when you guys were out drinking or when he first met me? You never even hinted about it?"

"Sure, but he always thinks I'm lying. Probably because I make it _sound_ like I'm lying. You're seriously upset that I didn't blab to Wilson?"

"No, not upset, I just want to know why. It must be that…you're embarrassed, isn't it? You want to make it clear that you can't stand me. Your reputation would suffer if they thought that maybe-"

"Of course," he almost hissed as he turned toward her, "any guy would be filled with humiliation if he got to have sex with the woman who all the other guys want to have sex with. How embarrassing!"

"OK…"

"I was protecting your privacy. Plus, telling everyone would have been a shitty way to say 'thanks for the sex.'"

She had an unmistakably happy look on her face as she said, "That's…actually sweet. Thank y-"

"You complain about the stuff I _do_ say, but apparently you don't approve of what I _don't_ say either. See, this is why you will probably always be single."

At that moment, the happy expression left her face as she pulled her head back indignantly, "Excuse me?"

He dropped his shoulders a bit in response, "And comments like mine are likely why I'll always be single. It's not an insult, it's just who we are."

"Fuck you."

"I can't trust the two of you to get along for five minutes on your own?" Wilson asked as he returned. "Do you need a referee present at all times?"

"Probably," House and Cuddy said in unison as they turned to Wilson.

"My wife is on her way home, I need to call a taxi. Want to share one?" Wilson asked House.

"Sure. If you're paying," House agreed.

"If I'm paying, how is that _sharing_?"

"Sharing time, wisdom, the stale air that we'll breathe."

"I'm too drunk to care, so fine. Let's meet tomorrow to figure out what we're going to do. You guys want to have lunch at Sal's at two? That will give me enough time to figure out what in the hell happened in that meeting, and it's far enough away from the hospital that we shouldn't be overheard."

"That's fine," Cuddy replied.

"If you two arrive before I do, just wait in your separate cars. I don't want to walk in on a no-holds-barred food fight."

"Does Sal's have jello?" House asked.

"Not even in your dreams," Cuddy countered.

"I'm hungry for lime…maybe cherry. I don't usually dream about my food though. Wait a minute, you weren't thinking something more-"

"Shut up."

"OK, guys," Wilson intervened, "we had a nice evening, at least while there was adult supervision, let's try to remember that. Tensions are high, but we'll meet up at Sal's at two tomorrow, and we can get this all figured out. Let's just try not to implode."

* * *

The next afternoon, armed with a lingering hangover and a few ideas about what was going on at PPTH, Cuddy slipped into the booth at the diner next to House so the three friends could discuss their plans.

"So who was present when they took the vote?" Cuddy asked Wilson as the server filled their drinks.

"I have no idea," Wilson answered, "I wasn't there. They held the meeting when I couldn't attend. My patient, the four year-old with the hepatoblastoma, was in surgery at the time."

"Wait, you were actually in the O.R.?" House asked.

"The mother asked me to be there. Her son knows me and she was worried that-"

"How often do you actually sit in on surgeries for your patients?"

"Look, let it go, my patient needed me…he's four! You can mock me for having a heart later."

"That's not what I mean," House clarified, "what do you think the chances are that you would be in surgery with a patient at the same time that Cuddy and I were out at a meeting?"

"Hell of a coincidence," Cuddy noted.

"It was planned."

"So someone had access to our schedules, and picked a time when we'd all be gone," Wilson stated.

"But how often is Cuddy gone from the hospital at all during the day, much less gone when you are busy too?" House asked.

"What are you getting at?" Cuddy questioned.

"Maybe the lawyers we went to meet work for whoever wanted to get rid of us. They scheduled a meeting with the lawyers during the surgery so they could take a vote without you or Wilson present."

"So someone has to be on the inside," Wilson added, "someone who knew that I'd be in surgery that day and could have the lawyers schedule a meeting with you and Cuddy."

"The lawsuit itself did seem sort of ridiculous," she suggested. "You said it before, a patient who is alive and healthy doesn't really have much of a lawsuit. The fact that a few treatments didn't work was unfortunate, but she signed the necessary waivers and there wasn't any long-term damage or lasting pain."

"Why did they need to get rid of Cuddy? Why not just fire you directly, House?" Wilson wondered.

"With her in charge, it's harder to get rid of me."

"You're assuming their real target was you," Cuddy said, "but maybe I was the real target and you were a bystander. No one really fired you, you quit."

House stated assuredly, looking over at her, "You are really good at pissing people off."

"Vogler was furious with her. He hated both of you by the time he was gone," Wilson added.

House responded, "Vogler's not interested in revenge. He's interested in money. He doesn't stand to profit from this, so he isn't interested."

"House," Cuddy piped up, "Vogler _is_ interested in money, but his desire to get rid of you went far beyond that. He escalated when you humiliated him and when you refused to meet his demands. He wanted you to respect him, even fear him, and you didn't. He's not used to people behaving the way you do. It _was_ personal."

"It just doesn't seem like Vogler's style," House hypothesized. "Why would he hide it? With his team of lawyers, don't you think he would just sue you directly? They should be able to come up with some reason or find a way to get rid of you. I'd think Vogler would want you to know he was coming after you. He could approach board members and offer increased funding or perks…maybe even cushier jobs. He buys his way in, he's a businessman first and foremost."

"So if not Vogler, who?" Wilson wondered.

They ate their food as they talked through the known information. When they finished their meals, Cuddy planned, "So what's our next step?"

"We need to know who was in the meeting," House answered, "which board members were present and voted to get rid of you."

"I'll find that out," Wilson volunteered.

"And then we need to know if the lawyers are associated with anyone who hates Cuddy or me or both of us, someone besides my former patient. Unless someone influenced the O.R. schedule, which isn't impossible but is a bit trickier than scheduling a meeting with a lawyer."

"I can look into that," Cuddy offered. "My brother-in-law is a lawyer, I can see if he knows anything about that firm or their clients."

"OK," House continued, "and this patient, the one who sued me for curing her, we need to figure out who convinced her or her family to sue. She didn't like me, but she was happy to be healthy again. She thanked me before she left. I don't think it was her idea. I'll talk to her."

Cuddy scoffed, "You?"

"Why not?"

"Should someone go with you?" she asked worriedly.

"I can handle this."

"Without making it worse?"

"I gotta get back to work," Wilson said as he stood and placed more than enough money to cover his meal on the table.

"Meet up tomorrow after work? My place," House plotted.

"I'm free until seven," Wilson answered, "Julie and I have a dinner thing in the evening."

"What sort of dinner thing?"

"Dinner at her friends' place. A few couples, want to come?" Wilson offered disingenuously.

"A bunch of couples who are friends with your wife? Sounds horrifically mid-numbing. I'll pass."

"I'm free after four," Cuddy stated.

House turned suspiciously toward her, "What are you doing until four?"

"I have a…call."

"A call?"

"A pre-interview."

"Mercy?" Wilson asked.

"No. Somewhere new."

"I haven't heard about any new hospitals around here," House informed.

"Because…it's in San Diego."

"That's great," Wilson nodded, "but really far. Your whole family is on this side of the country. Are you looking at anything closer?"

"DC. There are a few hospitals locally who may be interested, but no immediate openings."

"You already have an interview?" House asked quietly, his face blank.

"I made a few calls this morning," Cuddy explained while she stood, "I need to make sure I have my contingency plans in order."

"I'll see you guys at House's apartment after work tomorrow, hopefully with a few answers," Wilson said before he left the diner.

"So, tomorrow?" she asked House once Wilson was gone.

"Yea. Tomorrow."

Replying awkwardly before she turned to leave, she said, "OK, see ya then."

House grabbed her wrist long enough to catch her attention, "Fuck the interview. You haven't even given me a chance to get your job back."

"I'm just putting out feelers."

"You owe me."

"I do?"

"The least you can do is stay here so you can employ me."

"I'll write you recommendations, make some calls for you-"

"I don't want your calls or your recommendations. I told you, I want to work for you at Plainsboro. I want to keep my team. I want things to go back to how they were."

"House," she answered gently, "the game has changed."

"Give me a week to show you that I can get your job back. You can't give me one week?"

"You want a week to try to guilt me into-"

"No. I want a week to put everyone back where they belong. Reschedule the interview…and then you can cancel it when it's obvious that you're gonna get your job back."

"Fine," she answered after some thought.

"Good."

"If I get my job back, are you going to cut me some slack? Stop treating me like the enemy?"

"It's doubtful. I need a boss who isn't going to fire me every time I'm an ass. Someone who will tell me no, make me prove my theories or at least force me to decide if my theories are worthy of subterfuge. Someone who knows that sometimes the only good answer is something that's dangerous and insane, but it might work. You can handle it when I'm, you know…being me. And, in the end, you need me to be me…or your diagnostics department isn't even worth having."

"Career codependency?"

"We could call it something prettier, find some fancy, current catch phrase, but codependency fits."

"I'll see you tomorrow when Wilson gets off work."

"Or you can come along to talk to my former patient and find out why she was suing me for making her better."

Cuddy looked around the restaurant while she thought, hesitantly answering, "Yea, OK."

"Then we can stop somewhere and get a drink while you call your brother-in-law."

"It's three-thirty in the afternoon."

"Almost happy hour by the time we're done interviewing my suer."

"True."

"How else will I know for sure that you're not setting up more interviews and making calls about future employment?"

"You could try to take my word for it."

"Hmm…no. No, that's not gonna work for me. I need to be sure. You're sneaky."

"I thought you said that you and I drinking together is a _bad_ idea."

"You remember that conversation?"

"I wasn't _that _drunk. And I'm still mad about that conversation, in case you were wondering."

"Well, I was right about the drinking."

"If it's a bad idea then why did you invite me to go for a drink?"

"Because I'm OK with bad ideas as long as they're _fun _bad ideas. Come on, we have interrogating to do."


	3. Trying a New Color

_A/N-Hi all. Thank you so much for your patience with this story and for all of your thoughts and suggestions, time is difficult to find as of late but i'll continue to update as regularly as possible. Thanks so much to all of those who commented on this chapter: IHeartHouseCuddy, dragonball256, KiwiClare, Huddylovelover, ikissedtheLaurie, JM, lenasti16, ammeboss, freeasabird14, JLCH, LoveMyHouse, linda12344, jaybe61, BabalooBlue, Little Greg, Suzieqlondon, LapizSilkwood, bere, Abby, THE Nick' Amaral, HuddyGirl, Alex, precioussoulandsweetcheeksiin1, grouchysnarky, Boo's House, ClareBear and the guest reviewers._

* * *

**-Trying a New Color-**

House and Cuddy pulled up to his former patient's home and looked at the modest but welcoming accommodations for a moment before getting out of the car.

"Let me do the talking," Cuddy suggested as they approached the front door.

"I can actually handle talking to patients."

"It just makes the most sense. I'd like answers instead of a second lawsuit."

"You think they're going to sue me for being impolite?" he asked while she knocked.

The door opened slowly as a small child stood on the other side, waving timidly. "Hi," Cuddy said softly, "is your mom or dad here?"

The child nodded but didn't move, staring up at the visitors. A woman emerged from the background, "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, directing the child away from the door.

"Mrs. Fields?" Cuddy asked, "I'm Lisa Cuddy from-"

"I remember who you are, both of you. What do you need?" the former patient asked as she folded her arms. "I've submitted all of the bills to the insurance, and we're doing what we can to make arrangements to pay what isn't being covered."

"We're not here about the insurance or to collect a payment."

"You know that you're billing me for the treatments that didn't work? I'll be paying for that trial and error approach for years."

"Better to live and pay than die and owe less," House inserted.

The former patient scowled, "Why are you here?"

Cuddy tried to step in again, "Is that why you filed the lawsuit, because you couldn't pay the bills? Why didn't you come in and discuss this with our billing department? Some other arrangement could have been made. House selects his cases based on the patient files, not on a patient's bank account, so, beyond insurance, there's really no consideration for the ability to-"

"What lawsuit?"

"The lawsuit you filed against Dr. House and the hospital."

"I didn't file a lawsuit. You think just because I'm not some six-figure earning, condescending doctor that I'm trying to sue to get ahead? I work hard, my husband works hard and we've earned every damn thing we have."

"I'm sure you have. It wasn't meant to be insulting."

"It just was."

"I assumed that you sued because we have actually been informed of a lawsuit. Dr. House and I have been in meetings, we've seen the paperwork. We were told you sued us and that your lawyers and ours reached a settlement," Cuddy explained, trying to reassure the woman. "I was fired as a result."

Fields studied her, saying after a moment, "I didn't sue you. And there's no settlement that I know of, at least I haven't received a penny. We have bills pouring in still for all of the things the insurance didn't cover."

"Then you stand to benefit if Cuddy gets her job back," House explained. "I'm sure you can fix that, right Cuddy?"

"Of course. Patients who can't afford their bills due to hardship are encouraged to come in to discuss different arrangements," Cuddy added. "Even if I don't get my job back, I can tell you who to talk to…even have someone assist you with the paperwork."

Fields' face softened, "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

Cuddy wrote names and numbers down for Fields after they were finally invited inside. Cuddy and Fields talked while House sat in the living room, watching the cartoons that were on TV. During a commercial, House turned toward Fields, "Even though you didn't actually sue, did anyone approach you about the possibility? Maybe try to talk you into it?"

"Sort of," Fields answered, "there was a guy who asked a lot of questions. He said he was from your hospital. It did seem like he was trying to point out flaws. He gave me a number for lawyers who do pro bono work in cases like mine."

"Do you remember his name?" Cuddy asked hopefully. "Or do you still have the phone number he gave you?"

Fields yanked a card down from the refrigerator, "Here, these are the lawyers. The man didn't leave a card. I don't remember his name…maybe Murphy…Mills…"

"Malloy," an older child answered from her spot on the floor.

"Are you sure?" Fields asked.

"Yea," the girl replied without looking away from the TV.

Cuddy knew from the look on House's face that the name was familiar just as House knew the business card that Cuddy held in her hand belonged to the lawyers that they had met with only days earlier. A few moments later, House and Cuddy were back in her car. "Malloy was my new supervisor for the two minutes before I quit," House explained, "and I'm guessing the business card belonged to the same lawyers we were supposed to meet with?"

"Yup," Cuddy answered as she drove.

"So now, we figure out who Malloy and the lawyers both work for…or why Malloy personally holds a grudge."

They decided to go back to House's apartment instead of to a bar so they could search online for Malloy and the lawyers. As they drove, she began to rant about Theresa Fields' unfortunate financial situation. Cuddy animatedly complained about costs for patients, issues with insurance and even some of the hospital's existing policies. She followed him into his apartment, taking the drink he handed to her and finishing it without discussing the earliness of the hour or the prudence of drinking alone together. House didn't interrupt her, choosing instead to listen to her angry diatribe on the subject with some interest while he refilled her glass.

She ceased her angry rant for a moment, taking another long sip and looking around for his laptop before carrying it to the coffee table. He watched with amusement while she opened the lid to the computer, and closed her eyes while it started up, peeking cautiously at the screen.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Preparing myself for whatever I'm about to see," she answered, opening her eyes fully when she saw the images on his computer. "Music?"

"You were expecting something else?"

"Porn," she admitted immediately.

"Well that's nice. You just assume that because I'm a man I spend my nights looking at porn on the internet?" he accused. "Sexist."

"You've admitted it. Everyone knows you watch it at work."

"Sure I do. But I do have other interests, you know," he argued with exaggerated frustration.

"I'm sorry," she immediately countered, "I'm sure you have plenty of other interests."

"I'll accept your apology under one condition."

"Which is?"

"Don't look at my browsing history."

"Jackass," she said she laughed, the alcohol relaxing her a bit, "I was actually starting to feel _almost_ bad."

"I know, it was great," he looked on proudly.

"Should I be worried about what I'm going to find on here?"

"Music and porn are the only two reasons to have a computer at home."

"I'll click carefully then," she retorted before she stood up, "back in a second."

Cuddy disappeared toward the bathroom while House refilled their drinks. As he returned to the sofa, her phone began to ring. It was sitting on his coffee table, the display lighting up while it rang and announcing that the caller's number was private. He assumed that it was Wilson, since the landlines from each doctor's personal office were usually marked as private, so he picked up the phone and answered, "Dr. Cuddy's Palace of Pain and Pleasure, this is Dr. Cuddy's personal pleaser, how may I be of assistance today?"

"Excuse me?" a confused male voice asked from the other end. "Umm…this is Bradley Nease, I'm trying to reach Lisa Cuddy. I'm calling about her interest in our Chief Administrator position at the new Marilyn H. Crayton Hospital in San Diego."

"She's busy right now," House replied hesitantly before he finished off his drink in one hearty gulp.

"Are you her assistant?"

"Sure."

"We would like Dr. Cuddy to come and meet with some of our benefactors and our search committee later this week. I understand that she'd like to reschedule her pre-interview, but we really need to fill the position as soon as possible, so time is of the essence. I know this is last minute, but we're willing to make her travel arrangements for her and pay all of her related expenses."

House was silent, his head spinning for a moment. He actually felt his skin growing hot while he tried to consider his next move. "This week?" he finally asked lamely.

"Yes. Dr. Cuddy's resume and accomplishments have pushed her to the top of our list, we'd really like to hear from her so we can have the opportunity to discuss this thoroughly."

House coughed softly and said as if on autopilot, "I can tell her, but I'm pretty sure she's interested in another position."

"Oh," Nease answered, "I'm really sorry to hear that. Please have her call us personally. I think we may be able to convince her that we're worth considering. We're willing to assist with relocation expenses, of course, and we offer employee benefits to nurture and support life in and out of the workplace. But I'm sure she'd be more interested in the actual job than the perks. She'd have the opportunity to grow a hospital from the very beginning, to be part of a whole new generation of patient care that could redefine-"

"I can tell her, but I think her mind is made up," House interrupted, clicking the button to end the call even though he could hear the man on the other end of the line still talking.

House dropped his head back on the sofa while he thought, a sense of panic welling up within him. Then he felt something entirely different, he could sense her there even though there were no other signs of her presence. Turning his head slowly, he squinted when his eyes found her unhappy expression. She was in the hallway, arms folded while she glared right through him. "Why would you do that to me?" she asked through gritted teeth as she approached. "This is not your decision to make."

"You can still call them back. _Bradley_ is dying to hear from you."

"You owe me an answer," she ordered as she drew closer, standing at the end of his sofa next to him.

"I thought Wilson was calling you."

"Which only explains why you answered the phone. But when it wasn't Wilson, you kept talking. So at that point, instead of asking him to wait a few minutes until I returned, or taking a fucking _message_, you tell him I'm interested in something else."

"You are interested in something else. You're interested in going back to your hospital."

"My decision, House. My phone call. My conversation to have."

"So fucking go if you want to." House held up the phone to her, looking away the entire time.

"Maybe this is one of those crossroads in my life where I can make a career move that changes everything for me."

"Why do you think everything needs changed?"

"Why do you think it shouldn't be?"

"Everything's fine the way it is."

"It could have been a brand new opportunity for me. You deliberately sabotaged that."

"No, I didn't. I didn't tell him 'no'…if anything they'll come back with a stronger offer because you're playing hard to hire. I helped you."

"That's not the point. The point is, this is my future and my career. Why can't you try trusting me? Why would you assume that I wouldn't consider the people I'm closest to when I make those decisions?"

House stood, leaning on his cane and staring at some unknown point in the distance while he thought. There was no sense of urgency while he avoided giving her an answer. He seemed calm. By all outward appearances, he was completely disconnected, but in reality, his mind was thundering as he tried to find a coherent thought amongst the ruckus.

"I want an answer," she insisted, growing rapidly irritated with his detached response.

He wasn't exactly sure what he actually wanted, but the thought of having any _less_ of her in his life hurt. The idea that she would be on the other side of the country filled him with complete dread, and his mind circled around the fact that he wasn't ready to let her go. Hastened by his belief that the world he knew and preferred was crumbling away, he did the only thing that seemed to make sense: he took one small step toward her and kissed her.

No longer distant physically or mentally, he insistently moved to her mouth, his lips meeting hers in a startling way that set off alarms, twinges and an undeniable surge of sensations throughout every place in her body. His hands loosely found her waist, venturing no further than those points of contact. Her hands dropped idly to her sides, unwilling to engage or deny for a moment, her mouth allowing the kiss but not exactly actively engaged in it.

Remembering her anger, she put her hands against his chest and put distance between them in a way that hurt him deeply but not for the physical force she exhibited. She stepped back two steps, quickly shaking her head to try to clear the tempted but confused fog from her mind. "What am I supposed to do about _that_?" she asked, shocked.

He slowly developed a response, "I dunno."

"You were trying to shut me up?"

"No. That was just an added perk," he flatly tried to joke.

"Then what were you trying to do?"

He shrugged, raising his eyes to her with the most uncertain look she had ever seen on his face. Had she not known better, she would have assumed that some unseen force physically pushed him into her and required him to take action. She was breathing unsteadily, her shoulders lifting while she tried to sort everything out. His eyes remained on her, clear blue and heavy with concerned defeat. She shook her head slowly, looking for words that didn't seem to come. "House," she said less irately, "I can't…I'm not even…"

His brow furrowed while her thoughts wobbled, waiting for her response until a moment when she pursed her lips, her eyes lifted right to his, and she finally shrugged in return. She moved quickly to close the gap between them. She reached up and offered a demanding kiss in return. He felt his body jolt to life at the graceful and purposeful flicker of her tongue and the unmistakably resolved way that she was kissing him. There was a complete lack of hesitation, confusion or uncertainty in the way she was there, her body, her lips, the hand that had a firm grip on the back of his neck, all forces demanding to be noticed and answered.

Responding immediately as prompted to by her counter move, he was against her and engaged. Each second seemed to be rapidly escalating their investment, so he broke for a moment from the intensity. His hands on her hips, he pushed her back down so her feet were firmly on the ground, and he returned her question, "What am_ I _supposed to do about that?"

"I don't know," she answered assertively and unapologetically. "I have…no idea."

He nodded, her answer one that was perfectly worded and completely clear to him. In the next moment, spurred by his continued need to keep her near, his free arm wrapped around her again and pulled her flush against his body. She reached between them, popping open the button on her jeans, hooking her fingers under the waistband of both her jeans and panties, and slipping them part way down her thighs. Her clothing hovered there, not falling to the ground because of its tightness, and she couldn't push the garments down any lower because he held her body upright and against him while his mouth found her neck, his hands learning the curves of her body while he whispered sighs and groans into her ear that spurred a flood of wetness to surge between her legs.

She began to remove her own shirt since he refused to be deterred from touching her in order to dispatch of clothing, even if it meant she'd be more naked next to him. Her body shifted and twisted in the space he allowed her while she slinked from her shirt. Appreciating her efforts, he found each new patch of exposed skin. He did help in some small way, unhooking her bra because his hands were, at one point, in the right place at the right time to do so, his lips moving to her breasts while she pulled the garment away.

Their pace was restless and refused to be delayed, since they decided to cross the line, neither saw reason to slow. Stopping at that point would have been more uncomfortable than dealing with the aftermath, but neither paused to acknowledge that fact. She reached between them to start taking off his clothes, because he wasn't bothering with that either, she seemed to be doing a wonderful job of dealing with the clothing that prevented their progress without his intervention. When she released the button on his jeans, she felt his hand move to her sex, three of his fingers slipping against her folds until two pressed into her.

She gasped loudly, her body leaning heavily against his for a moment while her hips rocked toward him. Passively enjoying the touch for only a moment or two, she rubbed his cock through his still partially in-place clothes. The sensation of the fabric of his clothing was rough and unwelcomed next to the smoother, silkier, warmer textures he was imagining. When he could no longer allow the irritation of his clothing, he regretfully removed his fingers from her body. Finally assisting her in the act of disrobing, he removed his jeans, knowing that, if it was possible, he would have gladly ripped them from his body at that point. Once his hands were removed from her to rid himself of his jeans, she quickly wiggled free of hers, tossing her socks to the side before she helped him complete the task.

They were naked in his living room, returning quickly to each other, his hand finding the wetness that had spread to her inner thighs during their activities. When she reached for him again, her fingers wrapping urgently around his sex, he finally slowed in favor of relocation. Taking his cane tightly in hand from where it had fallen against the sofa, he took a few steps, pinning her against his front with his one free arm. Wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, she stepped backwards down the hall toward his room, half-carried since her toes only touched the ground on alternating steps.

He pushed her hips firmly down so she was sitting on his bed, dropping his cane onto the floor with a harsh clatter that possibly could have stunned them enough to reassess the situation, but it didn't. Pulling her legs up and tugging her body down so her ass was almost hanging off of the bed, he positioned himself in front her. His eyes met hers, searching not only for permission, but anticipation, and he found both. His gaze left her face for a moment while he braced on his hands and leaned partially on the bed over her. He watched with pleased reverence as his body began to disappear into hers. Teasing with a few shallow thrusts as he slowly gained entrance to her body, he watched the progression until he was eventually entirely within her.

At that point, he closed his eyes, feeling somewhat overly aroused. She wouldn't, or perhaps _couldn't_, allow him the moment to regroup as her hips began to lift against him. He remained still, partially standing, while she moved for the both of them, her desire dictating the response of her body. And he loved it. He was awed by her lust that seemed to match the his own, one he tried to keep tightly bound and hidden from sight. He scooted her up the bed, knowing that if he tried to remain standing, she'd be reminded of his weaknesses. His body settled over her, heavy and strong as they started fucking each other. Both were frantic and desperate, like they had been for most of the encounter. They were raw and carnal, enjoying the pleasure that occurred as a result of something it seemed they had to do.

Ironically, they were less patient than in their youth, less thoughtful and coordinated, but more passionate and skilled nonetheless, and the resulting sex was mindblowing, filled with craving and longing that didn't seem to subdue as they continued. They came loudly together, their bodies subtly undulating long past the point of climax because it still felt good.

He was dazed, his face slack as she rolled them on their sides and kept him next to her. Neither said a word as they faced each other, and the silence was in some ways merciful and in some ways uncertain torment. It wasn't long before hands and lips wandered again while bodies began moving against each other. Her body was there next to his, still naked and accessible, still near enough to touch, so not touching her seemed absurd. They had sex again, more slowly, more conscientiously than their earlier encounter. She was half asleep against him when they were done until she heard his home phone ring. When the answering machine picked up, they heard Wilson, "Hey House, I'm stopping over. I hope you're with Cuddy. I just swung by, and she's not at her place…I'm kinda worried that getting fired has hit her harder than we think. We should probably keep an eye on her."

Cuddy jumped up out of bed, running into the living room and scooping up all of her clothing into her arms before she jogged back to the bathroom. When she emerged, her face still flushed but a bit more tidy, and certainly more clothed than she had been a few minutes earlier, she found House already dressed and sitting on the sofa.

"Umm," she started to say when Wilson knocked on the door.

House's eyes met hers, not at all disapprovingly, and he suggested, "Later?"

"Yea," she smiled with some relief, "later."

He stood, limped around to the door and let Wilson in, "Hello there. How's your mother-henning going?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Wilson asked with concern.

"You said you were coming over…can't I just talk to you now? Do I need to talk to you on your way so you can tell me what you were going to tell me once you got here…only to have to listen to you tell me all over again when you actually arrive?"

"Shut up," the younger man said before another thought seemed to catch his attention. "Cameron and Chase and possibly Foreman are all willing to go wherever you go."

"Of course they are."

"My only concern is Chase. He flipped sides during the whole Vogler thing. You don't think that…maybe he's in on it?"

"He's trying to prove to me that he's trustworthy. He wants back in too much."

Cuddy came out from the kitchen, smiling a bit awkwardly, "Hey Wilson. There is no need to worry, I'm doing fine with being fired. It's all a temporary problem that I'll probably laugh about some day."

"You were here when I called? Have you been here a while?"

"Yea. We stopped up at Theresa Fields' place to talk to her. She was _not_ involved in the lawsuit."

"That's interesting," Wilson answered, "I have some news too, might be useful in negotiations-"

He stopped when her phone rang. She held it up, "It's my brother-in-law."

Wilson watched while Cuddy retreated back to the kitchen to take the call. "That thin line between love and hate…seems to keep getting thinner. Perhaps as thin as…an ultra thin prophylactic?"

House scoffed loudly, prepared to offer what was going to be a rather ardent denial when Wilson raised his hand and brushed at his friend's tee shirt collar. House looked down, seeing a tiny smudge of lipstick. "I'm trying a new color."

"Did you just borrow what Cuddy was obviously wearing today, or did you buy your own?" Wilson questioned while he pulled a very long, distinctively dark hair from House's shoulder and held it up between them.

"Her hair ends up everywhere. Proves nothing."

Wilson smiled and nodded, "Good for you. I'll get out of here in a minute so you can continue doing whatever you're doing that obviously proves nothing."

Cuddy emerged from the kitchen, unaware of House and Wilson's conversation and announcing, "Malloy used to work for Vogler."


	4. Climbing the Ladder

_A/N-Sorry for the delay. One or two chapters left after this one, I still haven't decided yet. Thanks to everyone for their comments: dragonball256, ikissedtheLaurie, freeasabird14, JM, BabalooBlue, the Guest reviewers, KiwiClare, LoveMyHouse, JLCH, jaybe61, lenasti16, IHeartHouseCuddy, byte size, linda12344, Boo's House, Suzieqlondon, CaptainK8, Abby, dmarchl21, HuddyGirl, Alex, grouchysnarky, Mon Fogel, LapizSilkwood, Jane Q. Doe and THE Nick' Amaral._

_I'll try to post again later this week._

* * *

**-Climbing the Ladder-**

They continued to research, finding that Malloy actually had worked for Vogler, having lost his job shortly after Cuddy managed her coup. There was plenty of evidence available from a simple online search to link Vogler and Malloy. Wilson was meeting two of the board members after work to get answers, so House and Cuddy decided to go along. As they drove in the car, Cuddy wondered, "Even if Malloy was working for Vogler and they excluded Wilson and I from the vote, they still shouldn't have had enough votes to get rid of me. Most of those people on the board were willing to let Vogler and his money walk away, following my advice. It doesn't make sense."

"So he needed more than money to persuade them," House added, "or…they found a way to discredit you."

"Like what?" Wilson asked.

"He accused me of favoritism, of protecting House. But the board knew House would be staying on when they took the vote to remove Vogler, so nothing changed there. In fact, if anything, I've been harder on House, expected more, was more particular about paperwork than I was before," Cuddy answered.

"You mean you were punishing me for costing you Vogler's money," House stated.

"No. I was trying even harder to hold you to the same standards that I had been trying to hold you to all along."

Wilson mentioned, tentatively, "Maybe he has evidence, pictures. How long has this thing between you been going on?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her face too calm and controlled.

"Nothing," Wilson retracted swiftly, "I mean this…battle of wills and the…the power struggle. I'll be right back!"

Wilson got out of his car and walked quickly up to his front door. When House peered into the back seat, Cuddy's arms were folded as she looked out the window. "What?" House asked.

"Nothing."

"I didn't tell him."

"Oh, obviously not. His great cover-up completely fooled me."

"I didn't tell him. He guessed. There was lipstick on my collar and some of your hair stuck on my shirt. Given that we barely got out of bed before he showed up, it probably wasn't that hard to figure out."

She turned toward him, searching his face and nodding with a slight smile, "It's not like I want to hide it."

"Once again…you get mad if I don't tell something or mad if I do. If I didn't tell him, it means I'm embarrassed, and if I did, I'm an asshole."

"I don't mind him knowing, everything just happened so suddenly, and I wasn't sure if...you know."

"Sure if…"

"With everything going on, it's not the best time to kick up rumors about something going on between us. If you want both of us to get our jobs back, talk like that would complicate things."

"Probably."

She didn't speak for several long, silent seconds, until she abruptly added, "And I _am_ on the pill."

House paused momentarily at the sharp shift in topic, "Well, yea."

"So what, you just _assumed_ that I was? Risky assumption."

"It's not really an _assumption_. It's a solid conclusion, arrived at based on every single thing I've observed about your behavior since I met you. You have personally chosen every single piece of artwork at the hospital. You, yourself, assign parking spaces, _and _you still personally sign for vacation for department heads and charge nurses. You'd control the tides if you could. You honestly think that I think you'd leave something like procreation to chance?"

Biting the inside of her lip, Cuddy considered some sort of counterargument but found none. "It was impulsive…and unexpected."

"The fact that you think you can anticipate your randoms is a pretty good illustration of my point that you want to control everything."

"You weren't exactly a random. Sporadic, yes, but not random. But whether or not it was impulsive or unexpected or maybe a little…inappropriate-"

"Inappropriate?"

"Given our working relationship."

"You're right," he sarcastically retorted, "two people who are both unemployed should try to keep things free of professional complications. Hard to believe we fit each other in, with these busy schedules."

"You know what I mean. If they are already accusing me of favoritism-"

"We'll tell Wilson to keep it quiet until we get our jobs back. If he wants us back, which he clearly does, he'll keep it to himself."

"True," she answered, pausing for a minute. "You know, even if it was impulsive or inappropriate, it was really, really great, it was…yea. And I don't regret it, at all, I want you to know that. I just don't want to broadcast it yet if we're going to try to get our jobs back."

He stalled. Until that point, he had the impression that she was trying to talk away what had happened, but between the look on her face and the words that she had spoken, that didn't seem to be the case. "Was it?" he tried to answer casually, his eyes giving him away.

"Do you regret it?" she asked with an almost undetectable flicker of worry.

He stared intensely for longer than necessary before answering, "You're joking, right?"

She watched him, his expression becoming noticeably lighter, and she asked bluntly, "Was that just a one-time thing?"

"If we're limiting our discussion to this decade, it was a two-time thing, or, more accurately, a three-time thing for you," he mentioned, "depending on how we're defining 'times' in this case."

"I mean, in your mind, was that a freak incident, or is there a possibility of recurrence?"

"You want to have sex in Wilson's car?"

"Not this second, you irritating ass."

"If we get to the pet names stage, can mine be, 'you irritating ass'?"

"Seems inevitable," she said with a breathed laugh. "You don't want to talk about it. That's fine."

After a pause, he said, "How seriously are you considering a move cross-country?"

"I'm not sure," she answered thoughtfully, "the whole interview thing happened so fast. _Everything_ is happening so fast. The last few days seem surreal."

House didn't respond, save the subtle drop of his shoulders, as they watched Wilson return. "You guys ready?" Wilson asked as he started the car, "this is kind of exciting."

* * *

The two board members sitting at the table were beyond surprised to see the trio arrive, and tried to hide their desire to disappear behind phony smiles.

"Lisa," the woman said sweetly, "how have you been?"

"I've been better, Sandra," Cuddy answered immediately, turning to the man and adding, "Hi Steven."

Sandra sat down, gesturing for the others to join her, "So what's new?"

House leaned forward, loudly saying, "We missed you, so we decided to come here and share pointless hours of small talk, carefully avoiding anything that may be seen as interesting or pertinent."

"OK," Sandra nodded nervously.

"What the fuck happened to Cuddy's job?" House blurted.

"Let's calm down," Steven said smoothly. "If you want to address this, you need to go through official channels. We, personally, don't owe you any answers."

"It's true," House spoke over Cuddy's attempt to answer. "It's not like Cuddy made that malpractice suit disappear for you six months ago, back when the light in her office was on at least three times as much as it was off. She had all of those meetings, and somehow you come away without the slightest mark on your record. And Sandra, when your granddaughter was sick, and Cuddy called in some huge favors to give you three weeks off with no notice whatsoever, remember that? Now she called in a doctor from another hospital to cover most of your regular appointments, but did you know that she covered every single one of your clinic hours over those three weeks herself? Wow, you're right, why help that selfish bitch?"

"I never called her that," Sandra defended, looking guiltier by the moment.

"It seems like Steve has also forgotten," House pretended to whisper, leaning closer to Sandra, "that when his wife came into the hospital, screaming in the atrium about that affair she found out about, it was Cuddy who calmed her down to avoid any arrests or really potentially embarrassing situations. I'm sure she couldn't have done something simple like…call security. Given the threats your wife was making, Cuddy would have been justified in calling the cops. I'm sure that was purely professional too, and not a personal favor of any kind."

"What does this have to do with you?" Steven griped, looking around in the hopes that no one had heard the discussion.

"I'm a concerned citizen. And I bailed each of you out myself when you both fucked up that case last year that would have easily been another malpractice suit if the patient would have died, just in case you need any additional incentive."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Steven retorted. "I've never-"

"Shut up, Steven," Sandra interjected. "Lisa, a few board members came to us with concerns about the loss of Edward Vogler's money and support. Most of us felt confident that keeping you as our administrator made the most sense, and that you were right in encouraging us to keep our independence. But when we found out the circumstances surrounding how you got the job originally, and about the personal issues that came into play with Mr. Vogler-"

"What personal issues?" Cuddy asked, "And what do you mean by 'how I got the job'?"

"There were pictures, Lisa," Steven answered, as if Cuddy should have been appropriately concerned about the existence of evidence.

"Pictures of what?"

"Of you and Dr. Ackert," Steven whispered.

"He was…a great dean," Cuddy responded, "and a fantastic mentor."

"Who's Ackert?" Wilson asked.

"The last dean, one of the original team who interviewed me. He stayed on the board my first year, helped with the transition. I adored him."

"I think your _adoration_ is part of the problem," Steven added suggestively.

"They think she slept with the last dean in order to get the job," House said to Wilson. "Who cares if she did? She's done things for that hospital that no one else would do, made positive changes and brought recognition. No matter how she got there, she's the best person for the job."

"I did _not_ sleep with him. Or anyone on the board or anyone I interviewed with," Cuddy defended. "Ackert was almost paternal in his support."

"Ask him," House suggested.

"He died. Last year," Cuddy answered.

"The point is, it doesn't matter. You've more than proven yourself. So who cares who you slept with years ago?"

"I think the board was willing to overlook _that_ indiscretion," Sandra said, clarifying, "alleged indiscretion. But when you allowed your personal affairs to impact funding now-"

"Funding?" Wilson asked, "What does that have to do with Ackert?"

Sandra leaned forward, her expression more sympathetic, "There were pictures of you and Mr. Vogler…outside of a hotel, at a restaurant-"

"I did not sleep with Edward Vogler," Cuddy interrupted adamantly.

"We were told that you propositioned him. And when he declined your proposition, you went on a campaign to get rid of him."

House huffed, "If he turned her down, why were they at a hotel?"

"I don't know. Maybe they went there to talk," Steven responded, "and that's where he turned her down."

"I've been in restaurants with every person at this table, so I don't know what a restaurant picture really proves except that we ate together. I did not have an affair with Vogler nor did I ever proposition him. Ask him!" Sandra and Steven both looked away and Cuddy nodded knowingly, "He's corroborating the story."

"Apparently," Sandra answered. "We didn't speak to him directly."

"I want to see the pictures," House demanded.

"I can't get them for you. The last time I saw them, Mr. Malloy was taking them back to his office."

House turned to Steven, staring into him, "If only someone else who owed Cuddy in a very serious way would be willing to do the right thing."

"I'll get them," Steven begrudgingly offered. "I can probably get to them tomorrow. If not…then definitely Thursday."

"Thank you," Cuddy replied.

"I admit that I owe you a favor, so if I do this, are we even?"

"Don't do it because you-"

House interrupted, "If you do this, and when it comes back to vote, you bring Cuddy back on as dean, _then_ you're even. Until then, you still owe her. And she might not use what she knows to her advantage, but I will."

* * *

Later that night, Cuddy sat in her living room, lamenting the turns that her career had taken while wondering what in the hell was going on in her personal life. When she returned to House's apartment with Wilson after meeting the board members, she knew it was best to for her to be alone. She watched House's grumpy expression when she quickly said goodbye to both men and left. Everything was complicated and intense, and yet she knew that, in spite of everything, she wanted to get in her car to go see him. Given the accusations presented to her earlier, she knew it wasn't a good idea. If she was being watched, giving someone proof of an affair with House seemed only to lend credence to the other accusations they were making.

When her phone rang, she picked it up, certain that it was House because she could sense his impending presence. Her stomach fluttered as she answered, "Hey."

"Lisa Cuddy?"

"Yea," Cuddy answered, walking to the kitchen to pace, "who's this?"

"Bradley Nease from the Marilyn H. Crayton Hospital. How are you, Dr. Cuddy?"

"Fine, you?"

"Great. I spoke to your assistant earlier about our need to accelerate the hiring process-"

"He mentioned it. Bradley-," Cuddy smiled as she saw House's face in her kitchen window, waiting for her. His expression was heavy and sad, his eyes patiently asking to be granted entrance. She held up one finger to ask him to wait as she said into the phone, "I can't."

"Let us discuss our benefits package and our plans with you. You'll see, this is the right place for you. This hospital was practically made for a woman with your vision-"

"My life is here, my family is nearby, and the job I want is here too. I don't want you to waste your time and energy on interviews if I'm ultimately not willing to take the position."

"If you change your mind within the next week, please let us know immediately. After that, I'm afraid it will be too late."

"I will. Thank you for considering me for the position," she answered, ending the call. When she went to let him in, she saw House disappear from the window and reappear at her door. "I'll warn you in advance, after today's accusations, I'm not exactly feeling frisky."

"You think I'm here for a replay?" he asked with feigned horror.

"What are you doing here?"

"Was that Bradley on the phone?"

"Yes."

"Did you reschedule your interview?"

"No," she answered as she watched disappointment cover his face.

He gathered resolve and said, "If you go, I'll have to leave Wilson when I go with you. I don't want to leave Wilson. He's completely helpless without my guidance."

"Is he?" she chuckled.

"It's heartbreaking."

"You're interested in going to San Diego?"

"You're fun to drink with, that's one in the pros column. But besides that, I want a job, _and_ I really like having sex with you. I want to do it more often. If you're in San Diego, and you're the only person who will employ me, and the only way to have sex with you is, by definition, by being with you, then I don't really have another choice."

"I guess that's true."

"I'll do what I have to do, but relocation is definitely not ideal. Unless you don't want me to come."

"I don't really want to live there either. I'd miss my sister and her family, friends, Wilson…"

He looked at her expectantly, "Unwilling to add any intriguing, charming, ridiculously virile men to that list?"

"I won't miss Steven that much," she teased. "I didn't reschedule my interview because I…told them I wasn't interested."

His eyes lifted, "Really?"

"Yea. Although…given that I've been accused of sleeping my way into my job, and then propositioning the hospital out of money, it's probably not in either of our best interests to pursue something now."

"I won't tell a soul. Plus, I hate doing the things that are in my best interest. It's more fun doing you."

"Nice," she laughed, trying to look reproaching.

"Secrecy is part of my game. It's why I'm coming in the back door, literally. That is, if you let me in."

She stepped back and watched while he limped into her kitchen, looking her over thoroughly and without the slightest haste. Breaking the silence, she questioned, "You want to come in even though I already warned you that I'm not really in the mood for sex?"

"Funny thing about moods, they're influenced by circumstances. Things that are forbidden are hot. Also, sometimes convincing someone else that they _are_ actually in the mood can be part of the fun."

"I can imagine."

"Or I can just loiter here at your place and wait for your friskiness to return. Seems a shame to waste my skills like that."

"Do you think someone's watching us?"

"Sounds even better."

"Do you think we're being followed? Maybe someone's sitting outside in a van, taking more pictures?"

"We've been hanging out at each other's homes since you got fired. If anyone asks, we were drinking and plotting your return," he walked patiently toward her, stepping into her space and leaning slowly down until his lips could graze against hers.

When he pulled back, he watched the desire in her eyes contradicting her words, "Our timing isn't good, we might be risking-"

He interrupted her with a kiss, one less hesitant as it became clear how much he wanted to be there with her. Her response was immediate and devout, sending pangs of desire throughout his body. She stopped again for a moment when her rational mind screamed more loudly than her body, "What if they use this to prove a pattern of behavior?"

"You're sleeping with me to get ahead? How does that make sense? And once we discredit the other allegations, no one's going to believe any of their claims. Plus, I'm obviously the one pursuing you."

His hands and body were moving against hers again and she sighed, "What if they don't say I'm doing it to get ahead…what if they just say I'm some sort of sex-crazed maniac and that it interferes with my ability to do my job well?"

He paused and looked at her, "Are you a sex-crazed maniac? Because that would be so cool," before his lips moved down toward her breast.

"That feels so good," she sighed, her hands grabbing his shoulders and the back of his head while she tried to pull her body closer to him. "I can't think like this."

Speaking against her skin, he added, "Good. When the board realizes how stupid they were, they are going to feel like the world's biggest dumbasses for buying that crap. They'll be begging you to come back. Besides, as far as Vogler or Malloy or whoever is concerned, it's mission accomplished, they got rid of you. Why would they be watching you now? " He pulled her shirt off, letting his cane drop against a chair so he could feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, a look of astonishment on his face. "Your body is _almost_ too perfect."

"Too perfect?"

"I said almost," he answered before he pulled her tightly against him.

She could feel how aroused he was already, and her concerns began fading into desire. "This is crazy."

"You want me to stop?" he asked as he nipped along her neck.

"I like crazy, crazy feels, so…I want you to stay. Stay."

"You really are sex-crazed, aren't you?" he grinned.

Pushing his body back from hers for a moment, she said in the sexiest voice he had ever heard, "Hope you can handle it." She turned toward her room, holding out a hand and waiting.

He quickly grabbed his Vicodin, swallowing a pill and picking up his cane. Taking her hand, he said with a truly salacious smirk, "I've always dreamed of sleeping my way to the top."


	5. Destructive Behavior

_A/N-Sorry again for the wait. I haven't had much time for writing lately. Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter: JLCH, BabalooBlue, OldSFfan, IHeartHouseCuddy, the Guest reviewers, jaybe61, dragonball256, ikissedtheLaurie, jkarr, JM, linda12344, Boo's House, Suzieqlondon, dmarchl21, Abby, lenasti16, HuddyGirl, Alex, grouchysnarky, freeasabird14, Mon Fogel and Jane Q. Doe, and to all of you who've read._

* * *

**-Destructive Behavior-**

They woke to more sex and sleep and a type of lazy morning neither of them frequently had the chance to enjoy. Cuddy's phone interrupted one of their partial, late-morning naps. When she answered it, Wilson proudly announced, "Maybe I should have been a spy, narrowly avoiding certain death by escaping overly elaborate traps rigged to kill me."

"Good morning, Agent Wilson," she answered in a sleepy voice.

"I got them. The pictures."

"You did?"

"Yup. Steven and I arranged the hand-off this morning, and they are currently in my possession."

"You got an early start," she yawned.

After a long pause, Wilson answered, "It's almost noon."

Cuddy lifted her body over House to look at her clock, "Yea, of course…I know that."

"Anyway, I stopped by House's apartment, but his car isn't there," Wilson said, adding with a failed attempt at casualness, "maybe you could…try to give him a call? Or maybe you know where he is?"

"Just come over," she ordered dryly before she hung up the phone.

House yawned, "He has quite the knack for calling us when we're in bed. Maybe he has cameras set up."

"Perhaps. It's also possible that every time he's gone, we end up in bed together and tend to keep ending up there until we have a reason to stop."

Twenty minutes later, Wilson arrived and spread the photos across the dining room table. House's eyes skimmed the evidence for a few moments, and then he announced, "I'm guessing that before you started earning an administrator's paycheck, you probably had a slightly crappier car."

* * *

A little over a week later, board members gathered in the conference room, each trying to find out who called an emergency meeting. Malloy entered the room last, tapping the table angrily, "I'm the one who calls emergency meetings." The other members found their seats and sat tentatively as they watched Malloy's angry, ruddy face. "Which one of you set this up?"

The board members looked to one another, waiting for the guilty party to stand up and take responsibility for what he or she had done.

Sandra eventually suggested, "Did Mr. Vogler request the meeting?"

"He isn't directly involved with this hospital anymore," Malloy answered angrily, "so if he had any business here, he would have to go through me."

"Mr. Malloy, regardless of who called this meeting, we are-" Sandra began until the door banged open as a cart was shoved into the room.

House leaned on the cart, announcing, "I called the meeting."

Everyone stared at the rudimentary refreshments on the cart, a far cry from the pricier beverages, snacks and meals they often enjoyed. Then all eyes locked on Wilson, who merely smiled in response.

"Call security," Malloy ordered immediately, fumbling for the phone, "This man isn't even an employee, much less a board member."

"You aren't actually that worried about me, are you? What do you think I'm going to say that's so horrible that you can't give me a few minutes to catch up with my former colleagues," House casually asked.

"You don't have the right to call a meeting."

"We better hurry this along before he calls a SWAT team," House whispered to the board before turning to Malloy. "You fired Cuddy, which was a mistake even if the accusations against her were true, but they weren't. The rest of you let this idiot talk you into believing something over a few pictures, and then you turned into a brainless mob that went after her with pitchforks and torches."

The door opened and Cuddy slowly walked in, leaning against the wall. All of the board members looked away except for Sandra, who smiled sympathetically and with a hint of pride at the disgraced woman's return.

"What is discussed during board meetings is private and confidential," Malloy argued, "we don't owe you any explanations."

House ignored him, "She was fired for stupid reasons, but even those reasons were fabricated. Our friend Malloy found an ally on the board, perhaps someone who was interested in a promotion or healthy bonus check, to give him some inside information. Once he got real information from someone on the inside, he discovered he didn't really have a good way to discredit her. So he made up stuff and manufactured the evidence to back up his claims. He even made up a lawsuit, forged paperwork with some lawyer friends to make it look like I was the reason for yet another lawsuit. I only need five minutes to explain how you were all completely misled."

"Let him talk," Sandra said, "unless we need to put it to a vote."

Several people, even in the absence of a formal vote, raised their hands to show support of Sandra's suggestion. Wilson's agreement wasn't a surprise, but as Steven and every other member except Malloy eventually demonstrated their concurrence, Cuddy's professional confidence surged. Malloy reached for the phone to call security when Wilson disconnected the cord.

House took his laptop from the cart and handed it to Wilson. While Wilson hooked up the projector, House began, "When you try to fake photographs, particularly of outdoor spaces, you have to be really careful. Trees grow, businesses start up or shut down, people's appearances change. The thing is, these weren't even well done. The shadows on some of them are wrong, the ratio from one subject to the next is off…in other words, you fell for really crappy fakes."

Wilson brought up the first picture, a photograph of Cuddy and the former dean, his arm over her shoulder, walking toward a seedy one-hour motel.

"That is Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Ackert," Malloy piped in loudly, rushing to the front of the room and pointing at the image. "I don't think I need to point out the inappropriateness of their location."

"Yea, it is us," Cuddy answered. "That's definitely me. But it's shortly after I got the job, not before. That photo, at least the image of Ackert and me, was taken by his wife."

"See," Malloy said victoriously, "I told you all, his wife hired an investigator."

"His wife physically took that picture at his birthday party, not outside of a hotel. She invited me. I didn't have an affair with Ackert."

"Where's your evidence of that? You expect us to believe your word?"

"We can call his widow, she could confirm," Cuddy answered, "she has a copy of that photo, still hanging in her husband's office. We were there a few days ago. From what she said, a few other board members have a copy of it as well. Should I call her and have her bring it in?"

"She's eighty," House added, "so I'm sure she has nothing better to do with her remaining days than explain to you where that picture came from. But that's not even the interesting part. That motel has been there for a long time, but see the sign to the top right?" Wilson zoomed in to the correct spot on the photo before House continued, "That neon triple-X sign was not there while Ackert was even alive. That belongs to 'Lacy's Erotic Emporium'. It's only been there for a year."

"Are you sure?" Sandra asked.

"I really am sure," he nodded with a knowing glare.

"I called the proprietor," Cuddy added. "She confirmed that a year ago, that place was a fitness studio."

"So this picture is obviously a fake. The next picture is even better. The car on the edge of the frame that Cuddy is leaning against looks like her very new Lexus. The last four digits on the license plate, the four digits that you can actually see, all match her car as well. Now, Cuddy, did you manage to come up with the money for a brand new Lexus before you got the job as dean?"

"No, I didn't."

"Were you able to bend space and time, buy a Lexus in the future, and take it back so you could drive to a rendezvous point for your affair with Ackert?"

"No, I didn't figure out time travel."

"Next we have this picture with Vogler."

Wilson went to the next picture, showing Cuddy and Vogler standing outside of a much nicer, pricier hotel. Steven added, "That B&B to the left has been there for ages, so has the hotel. I don't see anything out of place in this picture."

"You're right," House answered.

"Except," Cuddy interjected, "that I didn't buy that suit until after Vogler was gone. I bought it about a month ago. I called the store, and they can confirm the purchase because I bought it on a credit card, and the designer only recently began to sell that particular suit. That's me in the picture, but Vogler was not with me that day."

"The next picture is even worse. If I put the picture of Cuddy and her new car next to this one, it's the same image of her. They just resized it and turned it around."

Everyone stared at the images side by side, and their astonishment began to nervously show.

"This last photo of Cuddy eating with Vogler is less interesting," House sighed, "because they were actually at this restaurant, eating."

"We were," she explained, "that was the day he told me of his intention to donate to this hospital. Someone from his team took the picture to mark the occasion because we thought it was going to be the start of something great for all of us, professionally speaking. But if that's an indication of an affair, then I'm having affairs with almost everyone here. And I'm not the only one. We took these during the last week."

Wilson began to click through pictures of most of the board members at various restaurants with colleagues. House accused when one of the pictures showed four male board members dining together, "Wow, four of you…must have been a wild night."

"We were having dinner," Steven protested.

"Exactly," Cuddy answered, "eating at a restaurant is proof of nothing."

"Just in case the total absurdity of a picture like that being used as evidence of an affair is lost on any of you, we called in a food ingestion expert," House said.

Cuddy opened the door and sharp breaths could be heard throughout the room. Everyone watched while Vogler stepped in, his intimidating presence filling the room as he looked around with an air of disgust. "Mr. Malloy," Vogler's deep voice rang through the room, "did you tell these people that Dr. Cuddy propositioned me?"

"Sir," Malloy began, "this circus is out of hand."

"Indeed it is. Dr. Cuddy is a poor businessperson, a less than wonderful judge of which employees to hire and keep, and a very talented enabler," Vogler said as he looked at House, "but I never even suggested that she said anything inappropriate to me. Dr. Cuddy never made sexual overtures in my presence. I didn't reject her advances, because there were none, nor was there ever an affair. What you have is a former employee of mine, Joseph Malloy, a once trusted advisor, who was fired for the advice he gave while I attempted to work with this hospital. I have a feeling that Mr. Malloy wanted to throw in my face the proof that he was the better businessman. He wanted to prove to me that he could take over this hospital, remove Dr. Cuddy and thereby Dr. House, and have what some would call…the last laugh."

"You must pay your advisors really well," one board member said suspiciously. "If you weren't involved, who is funding Malloy?"

"He is funding himself, or rather his criminal activities are. When Dr. Cuddy approached me about my participation in this, we did a little research. It seems that someone was selling my pharmaceutical advances to other companies. Lucrative work, corporate spying, isn't it?" Vogler asked Malloy.

"It was almost perfect," House explained, "Malloy could get revenge on me and Cuddy, since he blamed us for the failed venture here, and he could also prove to Vogler that he was the better entrepreneur."

Everyone could see Malloy searching the recesses of his mind for an excuse or escape until a gentle tap came at the door. Cuddy opened it, and several men in suits flashed badges and asked to speak to Malloy. The next few moments were a blur as the men took Malloy from the room, and board members began to stutter apologies.

After things settled, Cuddy walked Vogler into the hall, saying. "I know our business relationship is probably not one you look back favorably upon."

"Even the greatest of business minds won't succeed every time. I won't be making the same mistake again, but Princeton-Plainsboro was a tiny flop in years of achievement…small potatoes. No offense," Vogler commented.

"None taken. I still appreciate that you came here to clear my name."

"I came here because I wanted the rat who was selling my secrets for his own profit to be found. You pointed that out to me, so I owed you."

"I'm appreciative nonetheless."

"This is why you will never be a great business mind. For you, everything is personal. For me…it's not."

"You really think that nagging House about every little thing, manipulating him and his team, playing head games…wasn't personal?"

"Well, that man does know how to push buttons," Vogler flashed a quick smiled before his impersonal business face hardened into tight lips and a honed, powerful stare, "but so do I. It was about control, power. Those things are important in my world. Sometimes you have to break a man before he'll fall in line."

Cuddy nodded, her own smile flickering across her lips, "And sometimes…the harder you try, the more he won't break."

"Neither did you though. I underestimated you…and your alliance with him."

"There was no alliance. House wants to solve his cases, and solve them his way. I want what's best for this hospital and all of those in it. We weren't allies."

"Why didn't you get rid of him?" Vogler whispered. "That is a huge mistake."

"I don't think it's a mistake. And if it is…it's mine to make. This isn't a business…I've tried to explain that you. It's like you can't see things any other way."

"That's because I can't. But, why didn't they just gather proof of an affair with House? That could prove why you lost me and my money. Why make up something with me or anyone else?"

"Because I wasn't having an affair with House! There was nothing to prove. How many times did I try to explain that to you?"

Vogler nodded confidently, "For the first time, I think I actually believe you weren't."

Cuddy extended a hand, "Since you don't want my appreciation, I'll just say…it was a pleasure doing business with you."

"I needed someone to catch my spy, so it was a pleasure doing business with you as well. At least this time."

She watched Vogler leave as she pondered their conversation, brought out of her haze only by House's voice, "They're waiting for you."

Turning and approaching him, she smiled, "Thank you for all of this. I couldn't have done it without you guys."

"Any chance you'll hire me back as a show of your appreciation?"

She looked him over, exaggeratedly pretending to weigh pros and cons, "It'll get you an interview, I can't promise anything else. My office, as soon as these people leave, and don't be late."

Smirking lustily at her, he opened the door so she could return to the board meeting. Wilson announced as she entered, "I'd like to move to reinstate Lisa Cuddy as Dean of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"I second that motion," Sandra added. "Let's put it to vote."

* * *

Late that night, Cuddy sat back in the office she'd reclaimed. Wilson had given her a cigar that she pinned, unlit, delicately between her teeth. House came through the door, immediately asking, with a tone of artificial repentance, "I'm not too late for my interview, am I?"

"I told you not to be late and figured that would be enough incentive for you to manage to be late."

"I had a team to reassemble. The kids were pretty amped."

The light in the room was dim, House's face was lit brighter when he struck a match for his own cigar. Her voice stern, she warned, "Do not light that in my office."

He smirked, challenging her as the match burned down toward his fingers, eventually jerking his hand with enough force to extinguish the flame with one determined effort. He bragged, "If I already had the job, I would have lit it."

The distinctive smell of phosphorus from the match filled the room, and she placed her cigar on the desk. "Oh, so I get to see you on good behavior?"

"I'm kinda fuzzy on that whole good behavior-bad behavior thing."

"Have a seat."

Although she gestured to her chairs, he casually rounded her desk and sat on the edge of it, almost in front of her.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked.

"Are you going to tell me that I didn't get the job?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me that you think we should call the you-and-me thing off?"

"No."

"Good," he nodded, "In that case, I'll go back to working for you just like I used to, except with after work activities and sex in your office when you want to reward me for my me-ness."

"You have a unique interviewing technique."

"I let my irresistibility speak for me."

To his surprise, Cuddy stood, distancing herself and rearranging items that were out of place in the room. After tossing a few of Malloy's photographs into a well-worn box, she walked past the door, engaging the lock as she continued her cursory cleanup.

"Just for future reference," he questioned, "what is the procedure I'm supposed to follow for sexual harassment?"

"You're going to accuse me of sexual harassment? Might put a damper on things."

"No, I want to know how to requisition additional acts of sexual harassment. I'd hate to be under-harassed."

She failed to scowl through her chuckle. Standing in front of him at the desk, her hands on his knees, she answered, "I think I can harass you enough to keep you busy. If I'm going to have to wait for you to complete paperwork, we'll both be retired before we get laid."

"Very true."

She added somberly, "We're going to have to be careful. I lost my job over similar accusations, so I want to try to avoid anything that might cause problems for us professionally."

"This isn't similar. The accusations about Ackert were about getting ahead. You're the boss, at the top of the food chain, so it's not like sleeping with me can get you any higher. And I…have zero desire to be promoted. So who's trying to get ahead?"

"You're looking for a job."

"They already know I'm coming back. And with Vogler, the story was that he turned you down, and I think we both know that the likelihood of me turning you down at this point is pretty much nonexistent."

"I just want to exercise some caution."

"Says the woman who is standing between my knees with her hands all over me. Can you see why this may be confusing?"

"Well, tomorrow this would be inappropriate office behavior."

"But it's not tonight?"

"I'm not officially starting until tomorrow. Tonight, technically, I'm just a woman, standing in an office with a man she's seeing."

"And after tomorrow?"

"I think it all depends how we present it. We need to be careful but…," her hands slid along his chest as she nestled her hips higher between his legs, "I think if we present it like a relationship, not like a fling or an attempt to gain professional favors, that will help."

Her eyes lifted to his, waiting. He answered, gazing over her with equal determination, "Seems like a good plan. So you aren't going for all out denial?"

"Obviously not," she answered, lifting herself higher until her lips could meet his. "Denial isn't my plan. It makes things seem secretive. Technically this started while neither of us had jobs. When I wasn't doing anything wrong, they accused me of doing something wrong, so maybe a small amount of inappropriateness would do me good."

"So my job would involve diagnosing and inappropriateness?"

"Sort of seems that way."

"Are you-" he began, before she carefully braced one knee on the desk, so close to him that he could feel the warmth of her through his jeans.

She pulled herself up on the desk, kneeling on the edge. Her body was against him, her knee pressing against his groin. His hands moved to her thigh, lifting it so she could straddle him. Gripping her hips, he ground slowly against her, letting her feel the effects of her on his body. She unintentionally sighed as she spoke, bragging, "I barely have to do anything to get a reaction."

"You do plenty."

"Are you going to be able to concentrate at work?" she asked as she opened his jeans and grasped his cock between her two warm hands.

Applying the perfect amount of pressure as she pumped along his length, she made sure he was entirely aroused. They were both watching her petite hands as they moved, discovering every inch of him. His mouth hung open slightly while he enjoyed the attention without intervention. The highly electrifying truth was that she was jerking him off as he sat on her desk in her office, minutes after suggesting that they were in a relationship. There was nothing unerotic about the truth in that moment.

Sitting next to him on the desk, she met his eyes, her tongue slipping over her lips to wet them while his breath hitched expectantly. He felt his erection harden further as he watched her slip down. He felt he could come from the anticipation. She kissed the head of his cock, allowing him gradual entrance into her mouth. Her full lips were perfectly formed around him, providing a tight grip on the smooth skin as they slid down. Her tongue laved along the sensitive tip, forcing his hips to lift.

His fingers gripped the edge of the desk as he tried to maintain control while she took him completely in her mouth. He was enclosed in something warm and soft and wet, her teeth occasionally grazing subtly against him, creating a contrast that made nonchalance impossible. His entire conscious mind was trapped in the luxurious attentions of her mouth and fingers. She hummed an appreciative sound that shot through him, his body grasping at the last remaining reserves of control. But before he could fully restrain his racing mind and completely tensed body, she tightened her entire mouth around him and swooped down one final time. It was the perfect short-circuiting of synapses and senses that became his entire world for as long as it lasted until he slipped back against the desk without a single thought occupying his mind.

He eventually felt her fingers trailing against his stomach. "Oh my god," he muttered, looking at her with a slightly awed expression, "I'll do whatever you want."

She chuckled, "You'll take that back in about ten minutes. I have a feeling that immediately post-orgasmic you is probably the most compliant version."

"So your best course of action is to keep me frequently post-orgasmic. I'll be wearing a lab coat in no time."

"That was Vogler's fantasy, not mine. How about completing paperwork?"

"I guess you'll have to give it a try and see what happens," he said as she got down from the desk and started removing Malloy's belongings again.

"Get your perky butt back over here," he ordered. "Why in the hell are you cleaning right now?"

"We can finish up later, back at my place."

"No, the office sex fantasy is really only half fulfilled."

"So much for post-orgasmic compliance."

"This is future-orgasm related, that's different. I completely missed out on the part where you scream 'harder, House, harder!' followed by a series of gasping 'yesses' as you reach ecstasy."

"Clearly you've never entertained _that_ fantasy before," she suggested dryly.

"I have most definitely entertained that fantasy."

She was going through books on the shelves, removing some volumes and retaining others while he fixed his jeans. He approached as he planned exactly what he wanted to do because once she was fully reinstated, he wasn't sure if she'd ever agree to such scandalous behavior within the walls of her office again.

As he stepped behind her, his left hand gripped the shelf next to her left side, the upper part of his arm against her ribs. She shifted uncertainly as she looked back over her shoulder, "I said we can finish up later," she stated in a tone that sounded more like a challenge than an order.

"And I'm saying we can finish up now _and_ later," he answered gruffly as his right hand found the space next to her hip and low on her tummy, just close enough to send a surge of hopeful desire to her sex.

He pulled her against him with that one splayed hand, and she let her body fall slightly back. His teeth pinched her ear before he rumbled, "Lift up your skirt."

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to be giving the orders," she answered lightly, her tone playfully difficult.

"Lift your skirt," he ordered more forcefully, punctuating each word as he pulled her more tightly against him.

She looked over her shoulder again, her look alone sending reminders throughout his body that she could easily turn him on again. "You want to make me come?"

He nodded slowly in response.

"You want me to scream your name when I do?" she asked, her voice sultry and alluring. "Make you come with me?"

His hips pressed forward, his hand angling her to him, an entirely instinctive reaction to her words. That surge of blood and nerves rushed to his pelvis, creating a need-filled weight. He wasn't completely hard yet, but he was pretty sure if she kept talking the way she was and feeling the way she felt, he'd definitely have the chance to be inside her. But, for the moment, there were other things he needed to do. He wanted to remind her that he could make her want him, that he could control her ascent, heighten her pleasure, and he could _make_ her come. While his mind was entertaining these thoughts, she shifted from side to side as she lifted her skirt high up over her hips. "Like this?" she questioned.

His right hand opened over her thigh, moving down to her knee before beginning a tempting rise upward so coolly that she became impatient for the desired pressure. His fingers curled around her sex, feeling the abundant wetness seeping through her panties. Pulsing only lightly at first, he felt her squirming a bit, her head resting back against his chest. As her full ass pressed against his jeans, he groaned in her ear.

The heel of his palm was rocking against her, causing an escalation of desire that made her remove her own thong before he could even ask. He wasted no time, his fingers following the dip between her saturated folds and sinking deeply into her pussy. She gasped loudly at his intrusion in her body, unexpected, but not nearly enough to quench her ample desire. He waited, unmoving, his fingers completely buried in her while her wetness coated his hand. When she started to move, undulating back against him, his cock hardened more fully from the friction she was creating and the unhindered honesty of her appetite.

He allowed his fingers to start fucking her, just to feel the hot, soggy way her body needed him. His palm pressed against her clit each time he was deep inside her. She was pinned between his body and the bookshelf, her hands occasionally reaching for shelves or back around his body in encouragement. Her gasps became more frequent, he was masterfully directing her responses, allowing a gradual but tense climb toward higher arousal. She harnessed patience, trying to stop herself from blatantly riding his hand toward a quicker resolution. Her hands eventually covered his to hold him against her body, her own wetness coating her skin when her fingers would slide against his.

When she started to clench his fingers more rhythmically, he removed them and slid his hand to her hip. He pulled her a few unsteady steps toward the desk, turning around so she was pinned between him and the furniture. At that moment, he finally kissed her, feeling her lifting herself up on the edge of the desk while their tongues mingled. She was already rocking against him, her hips moving in a proposed rhythm. His hands left her body long enough to open his jeans and shove them part way down his legs, just enough to get them out of the way. "I'll help you clear your desk," he offered while they moved up onto the surface, sending various items rushing to the floor.

Before he could even situate himself, she was guiding him toward her. He sunk slowly into her without pause or retreat, just steadily finding his way into her body. It seemed she was always so close to too tight, no matter how wet she was. She held him against her while she appreciated the heavy and persistent presence of his body in hers.

At the same time, they began to move. He plunged more harshly into her the second time, claiming her. They sought a joining of bodies that demonstrated the attraction that existed between them. His own want building to a crescendo in spite of a previous orgasm. She mirrored him with each thrust, her body waving to meet each union. They couldn't even dictate their actions at that point, because their bodies demanded total control without interference from their minds. But their minds loved every minute, loved the sweat, the grunts and gasps and sighs that accompanied the slapping of skin against skin, the scattering office supplies from the desk and the creaking of the furniture beneath them.

When his shoulder met the lamp on the desk, it flung to the ground, the only real light source in the room abruptly extinguished, so the pleasure of sight was momentarily robbed from them. The temporary deprivation of that sense heighted the remaining senses. He felt like he could go on forever until she cried out, "Harder, House. God, fuck me harder."

Her words were loud and unpolished, simultaneously demanding and desperate, and so close to the words he had told her he wanted to hear, with her own additions to the phrase only making it that much hotter. His own reaction had already been set, nothing could stop him from coming at that point. When she gasped out, her unintelligible words were rocked and stuttered by the moments when their bodies slammed together.

All of his remaining power went into their final moments of fucking, pushing into her when he felt the tightening grip of her around him. They were provoking each other's orgasms, each body's natural reactions creating sensations that the other craved. They came together in a rush of desire and feeling until their bodies had no power left to continue. They slowly came down from their highs as they panted, their limbs momentarily powerless.

"They were idiots," House mumbled a few minutes later, "Ackert and Vogler."

"You definitely have your own ideas about pillow talk."

"That's not a pillow…it's a desk blotter."

"Blotter talk is new to me. And thank you for the lesson in office supplies."

"Sure. Anyway, Ackert and Vogler were idiots. If they had any sense, they would have taken the opportunity and given everyone something worth photographing."

"I wasn't really attracted to either of them."

"At least they should have tried. I'm more than willing to give any future detractor ample evidence of an affair."

"Can we wait until our rehire paperwork is done?"

"Yea," he answered, nuzzling against her neck. "In the meantime, I want you to know that I really love the office atmosphere you've created. Getting rid of Malloy's stuff was a good start."

"The lamp was actually mine."

He froze for a moment, trying to judge the degree of her displeasure in the dark, "Small price to pay for fantasy-driven, office-reclaiming desk sex."

"True," she agreed lazily as they stood and began to correct their clothing. "Knowing us, it's probably not the last thing we'll break during sex."

He grabbed two bottles of water from the meeting earlier, giving one to her. "Here's to many, many, many broken objects…and countless incidents of sexually destructive behavior."


End file.
